Touched
by a Manicurist
a clean little poem for you
by Marilyn
(Recited to the tempo of a
Suburban Bohemian Beat)
I was needing to do the dishes.
They were really piled up high.
I was feeling a bit lonely
And just about to cry.
I had this sinking feeling
That I'd be scrubbing them all day
When I thought I heard a gravely voice
Right behind me say,
"You're soaking in it.
You're soaking in it.
Don't worry, honey, I'm right here
To wipe away your lonely tear
And let you know there's nothing to fear,
But you're soaking in it."
I started to turn 'round slowly
Then saw to my utter surprise
Madge, the manicurist
Was looking me right in the eyes.
She wore an embroidered pastel smock
With a red initial "M"
She took a drag off a cigarette
From the filtered end.
She was holding in her other hand
A bottle of Palmolive soap
She poured the liquid into my sink
And again I heard her croak,
"Start soaking in it.
Keep soaking in it."
I'm not about to go away
In this kitchen I will stay
Until I'm sure you've heard me say,
"You're soaking in it."
I wasn't sure if she was real
Or a figment of my mind.
I closed my eyes, took three deep breaths.
I was hoping I would find
Myself alone daydreaming
Once again, just like before
But no luck for me this time around
Cuz I clearly heard her roar,
"You're soaking in it.
Keep soaking in it."
She was sitting on my kitchen chair
With a cup and a nail file.
The table held that famous soap.
Her face an eerie smile.
As she said . . .
"Honey, come sit down a while
And give your feet a rest.
I'm here to calm and comfort you.
I have but one request."
As she tried to grab my left hand
And give it a massage,
I kept thinking about that good old gun
We kept in the garage.
Why was she here? What did she want? And what was her request?
Was she some sort of maniac?
Was this some kind of test?
As she began to file and paint my nails,
I felt myself relax.
Then I noticed to my horror
That the floor had not been waxed.
I told her there's no time for this-
The beds were still unmade.
I had to bring the laundry in
Before the colors fade.
"I must wash and dry and put away
And do my daily mending.
My kids and spouse are helpless.
On me they are depending."
She looked at me with knowing eyes
'Till I had my speech completed.
She took some lotion, rubbed it in
Then candidly repeated,
"You're soaking in it.
You're really soaking in it.
You're soaking in self-pity, gal.
You're givin' yourself the blues.
You no longer have to do it all.
You've paid your mommy dues.
It's time you teach your kids and spouse
To help you with the chores.
They can certainly wipe out a sink,
Sweep dirt up off the floors.
Give yourself some time with friends.
The wash can wait a minute.
Buy yourself some nice perfume
And ponder soaking in it."
There she sat with those hoop earrings
Giving me advice
At first I was afraid of her
But learned that she was nice.
She taught me to let go of things
That really aren't so urgent
To focus on what's good inside
And not on my detergent.
I asked her if that's why she came.
To teach me this big lesson?
Or was there something more she wanted
Like hearing my confession?
She said . . .
"You're making too much of this
And one thing is for sure.
I only came into your house
To give YOU a manicure . . .
That'll be twenty dollars."